Wheels of Stars
by Muggin Nix
Summary: It all started with the time turner. Well, not really. doctor who/Harry Potter x-over


I don't own Doctor Who or Harry Potter. Just so you know. If I owned doctor Who, Blinkey the Dalek wouldn't have died. Also, I would like to thank my awsome Beta, Cassandra Riley

* * *

It all started in third year with the time turner. Well, not really. It actually started quite a while before that, but for all intents and purposes it started in third year.  
Hermione pulled a long, fine chain from under her robes after Dumbledore left, ignoring Harry's questions about what was going on. She threw the chain around his neck, twisting the minute hourglass around three times**,** and blinked. Harry couldn't help but be fascinated by the warm breeze that felt like coming home around him. Hermione didn't open her eyes until they stopped.

"We've gone back in time. Three hours back..."

Harry knew she hadn't felt what he had. He never said a word, just went off to save a man who shouldn't have needed saving in the first place.

--

(It was) nothing more than a pale haze hanging in the air without substance. It almost felt familiar, but not. The gold was slightly off and there was no warm glow. It was either a blasphemous imitation or something he didn't know. He walked into the strange golden mist in the booby trapped maze for the third task. The world turned upside down, leaving his glasses dangling from his nose and his hair hanging hopelessly up. He closed his eyes and felt the world revolving at a steady pace under his feet. His glasses were steady on his nose**,** and a hair tickleled his eyebrow. Nothing had changed but his perception. Stepping forward out of the mist, he opened his eyes. All was exactly as it should be.

He was off running towards the origin of Fleur's scream; he felt the Universe run with him.

--

"Clear your mind, Potter."

Harry never said a word about how he couldn't clear his mind. He never told Snape about the silence so loud it hurt. Never said a word about the images flashing through his head so fast he shouldn't have been able to keep track of them**,** but could. He didn't say how wrong the silence felt. Harry could bear the painful memories chasing each other around in his head. He could stand Snape seeing his innermost thoughts. He could deal with the headaches and the painful visions from Voldemort. Anything, as long as he didn't have to face the quiet.

"Let's go again...on the count of three...one - two - three - _Legilimens!_"

It wasn't like Harry couldn't hide the things he didn't want see.

--

"Well, we were always going to fail that one."

Harry smiled at his gloomy friend. He knew he hadn't been wrong about either of his predictions. It really couldn't be helped that the examiner should have died the previous Tuesday; it really wasn't Harry's fault he had told her what could have been and not what would _(may)_ be. Really, her dying had been much more likely anyway. As for the tea leaves, his examiner would soon be meeting a rather large man who had just fallen in a pond.

"- From now on I don't care if my tea-leaves spell _die, Ron, die_ - I'm just chucking them in the bin where they belong."

Harry laughed and paid a little less attention to the images _(the has-beens, the things that are, the things that could be)_ hoping he would never again see his friends' glassy eyes looking back at him.

--

"_Avada Kedavra_."

Harry couldn't move, and not only because of the spell Dumbledore had put on him. He could only watch as Dumbledore fell backwards over the barracks of the tower. He felt time slow around his old mentor. Even in death the man's magic tried to save him, making the moments longer in a vain hope. No one else noticed. Harry could only watch the empty space where the headmaster had been. It took the man 32 seconds to hit the ground. 32 seconds that should have been 24.

Later, when he read the note inside the locket, it wasn't much of a shock. It hadn't whispered to him like the diary had.

--

On the day he died, Harry wasn't surprised to wake up with a new body. Walking past Voldemort's deformed corpse didn't bring the relief it should have. He just got up and got on with his task, ignoring that sad little voice in his head. His Lady Wolf was waiting.


End file.
